Not A Creature Was Stirring
by SquigglyDot
Summary: Christmas Stupidity... the Spy catches the Scout in a slightly embarrasing situation... Summary sucks XP  And actually is nothing like it sounds... eh heh heh


Gah! Writing with other people's characters is so hard! _

This is just Christmas stupidity… because I am toopid myself. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, ya'll!

TF2 and characters belong to Valve

Not A Creature Was Stirring

There was a soft clatter from the Mess Hall kitchen.

It was that sound which had Spy opening his eyes in the darkness of his room and trying to pinpoint the exact cause with keen ears.

A faucet was turned on briefly, the water muffling a sharp curse.

The military-issued cot creaked beneath him as the Frenchman pulled himself upright; he reached for his balaclava and a cigarette, which the Spy lit up around the amused smile that graced his lips. A wrinkled, white dress shirt was thrown on quickly as an afterthought in the short time for him to reach his locked door.

It seemed the chill of the fortress was proving to be a little overbearing for the mid-winter night, even in the middle of the desert. Even the Sniper had retreated indoors to avoid the cold.

All other bedchambers were dark - silent save for the occasional grunt and hardy snore.

Another curse followed from the kitchen; an indignant sound that was bitten off.

Spy grinned cheekily around his cigarette as he made his way down several hall corridors. He slowed his step, becoming unheard and unseen, even as he stepped into the light cast through the kitchen doorway.

The lanky form of the Team's youngest member was busy wiping up what appeared to be flour spilled on the floor. He grumbled, unaware of his audience, as he stood and tossed several dirtied paper towels into the trash. An unbound hand was brushed haphazardly against his leg. Based on his appearance, the condition of his oversized sleep shirt and gray sweatpants, he had already repeated the action several times.

The Scout shifted back to the counter and Spy had time to fully observe the contents set upon it. Several bowls were laid before him; flour, sugar, eggs, and other baking goods scattered on the white top. The stove timer ticked away. And beyond that…

"Cookies?" Spy inquired from his spot against the doorframe. The metal bowl slipped from his hands as Scout jumped and he took on an almost comical attempt to save the contents held within it.

"Shit! Ya' damn spook!" he snapped, glaring over his shoulder at the intruder. "Don't you ever make any noise? And, what, do you sleep with that damn mask on or what?"

"Zat eez none of your business," Spy replied nonchalantly. "Cookies, non?"

"Ah, go away," Scout scowled, turning from his teammate with a huff. Spy smirked at the red shading the younger man's cheeks and neck.

"Cookies for Christmas…" the masked man mused aloud, stepping into the kitchen.

"Ya'…ya' can't have Christmas without cookies…" Scout grumbled over the other's words, rambling in hopes to find a way to defend his being caught baking. "…Mom and all of us used to make 'em. A whole bunch that were s'posed to last us all month…they never did, tho…"

"Eet eez a brilliant idea."

Scout blinked at the Spy in surprise before snorting with a roll of his eyes. "Of course ya' would like this gay shit," was his smarmy remark. He reached for a whisk and started in on the mix that had nearly been ruined. Spy chose to ignore the words, instead focusing on the ingredients before him.

"What 'ave you made?" he asked.

"That stuff right there is, uh, Chocolate…Crinkles, I think Mom used to call 'em. I'm workin' on some…Peanut Butter Blossoms? They're in the oven. This is gunna' be a bunch of Sugar cookies and if there's still time… I'm'a make Gingerbread cookies," Scout informed distractedly. Spy watched him working intently on the Sugar cookie mix for a moment, imagining the boy bustling throughout a busy kitchen with his brothers milling about, all under order of one strong-willed woman.

He smirked at the thought, which was shortly interrupted by the stove timer.

Scout leapt towards the obtrusive sound, silencing it, and standing frozen on the spot. The Soldier hollered in his sleep but the pair remained uninterrupted otherwise. With a sigh, the Scout relaxed enough to retrieve the freshly baked cookies from the oven.

"Zee Pyro would not like you using 'eez glove 'as an oven mitt," Spy observed.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt 'em," Scout frowned, eyeing the other man as if to gauge whether he could trust him not to squeal. Spy laughed softly, taking over with the bowl of cookie mix as the hot tray was set on the counter.

Silence fell between the two as Spy stirred the powder into dough and Scout moved quickly to press several Hershey's Kisses into the peanut butter cookies. The young runner, who usually rushed about with irritating levels of impatience, took his time, making sure the cookies had cooled only so much before transferring them to finish cooling beside the earlier batches.

"Is that ready," he finally inquired, jabbing a thumb at the bowl.

"Oui." Spy nodded. Scout nodded as well, quickly rinsing off the cooking sheet before stepping beside the Spy.

"If yer' gunna' help… roll up the dough into balls about an inch big an' set 'em on the tray," Scout instructed.

"And zat eez eet?" Spy frowned.

"Yeah, you gotta' problem with that?" the other retaliated. The Spy sighed, setting down the dough he had been working with and retreating to his room. "Whatever!" he heard the Scout scoff behind him.

He returned to the kitchen only moments later carrying one of his best wine glasses in his hand. Scout shot him a glare over his shoulder and Spy felt a brief sense of deja-vu.

Holding the glass up for inspection, he commented, "To give zem more flare."

Scout cocked an eyebrow at him, curiosity showing through the displeasure of deviating from his mother's recipe. Spy took the other's unusual silence as an 'Okay' and he started in on the newest batch.

The elaborate, star-like design engraved on the bottom of the glass was slowly pressed into each ball of dough, eliciting an uncontrolled, "Ooh! Mom's gunna' love that idea!" from the younger man. Spy worked until he ran out of preset dough before looking at his companion expectantly.

"Eef we are to get to zee geengerbread we 'ave to keep working, non?"

"Oh." Scout snorted lightly, reaching for more dough.


End file.
